


What if?

by hangethetitancrazed



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: F/M, Grell is physically male, Grell's point of view, Maybe fluff, Smut, violent depictions of prostitute deaths
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 13:15:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7575340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hangethetitancrazed/pseuds/hangethetitancrazed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Grell and Madame Red had more going on between them besides just being partners in crime? What if a bit of passion and love threatened to take over them? How would Grell handle falling in love with a woman when it is something he never thought possible?</p>
            </blockquote>





	What if?

**Author's Note:**

> This idea sort of comes from an rp I once did with a Madame Red. So if it seems familiar that might be why. I am going to probably keep the chapters fairly short to start off with if I do work on this.

It feels like I’ve never seen the moon shine so bright until this night. I see a woman all dressed in red leaning over another woman who is lying on the ground. “Can it be that I have found a demon?” I find myself thinking, “No, she doesn’t have the right feel about her. But she did carve up that prostitute pretty well. Suppose the only way to know why is to approach her.” 

If carefully make my way down from the rooftop to the cobblestones below. I approach her cautiously trying not to make any noise. Apparently I failed because she whips around knife still in hand. Silence passes between us as we look at each other over.

Finally I break the silence, “That’s quite the mess you made.” 

She stares at me a little taken aback. She seems to be calculating what she should do. Finally she speaks in a slightly haughty voice that seems to be a cover up for her nervousness, “Are you going to turn me over to the yard?”

“No, nothing like that. I couldn’t help but notice how brutally you murdered this prostitute and admire your work. But one question comes to mind is how did she wrong you?” 

The read haired woman let out a sigh of what seems to be relief. “She was pregnant and asked me to get rid of the unborn child for her.” 

“So you decided to cut her uterus out and cut her to pieces in this alley? Dear madame, that is a wonderful way to teach others not to take the life of those unborn seriously,” I reply as I flip some of my long red hair over my shoulder, “Though I suspect that is part of why you did it.”

This time the woman let out an exasperated sigh. “I can no longer have children of my own,” she replies touching her stomach gently with such a sad look. 

“You poor dear,” I gasp instantly wanting to comfort her, “These dirty painted woman should not come to you with such insensible requests.” 

“Yet they do,” she replies in a saddened voice.   
“Let me help you to get revenge on these foul hags.” 

“Why would you help me?” 

“Madame, I feel your pain. I never got to have children of my own. My womb will forever be a barren one I’m afraid due to these cursed parts I was born with,” I tell her as I put my death scythe over my shoulder. 

“You poor soul,” she gasps, “I wouldn’t mind the help because I am often overseeing the estate of my late husband and being a doctor that I wouldn’t have much time for revenge. And as you said yourself, these whores must pay for discarding precious life.” 

“It would be an honor to serve you, Madame Burnett,” I say with a bow, feeling how good the words feel rolling off my tongue. 

“How do you know my name?” she asks looking me over as if she suspects me of stalking her. 

“A grim reaper knows many things,” I reply with a shrug as if to say that it isn’t anything spectacular. 

“So you collect the souls of the dead? How am I supposed to believe you?” 

“Just give me your hand and watch,” I reply as I draw nearer to the prostitute and her. I hold out my hand to her and she takes it nervously. I set her hand on my shoulder before reaving my death scythe. Then I bring it down on the woman covered in crimson stains. I watch Madame Burnett as the cinematic record plays out before her eyes. It shows her scenes of this pathetic wretch’s life that were important to her within her dying moments. One of the scenes shows her with a client that she had fallen in love with. It ends with him shoving her away and refusing her love. 

I allow the record to come to a halt with the violent death of the woman before us before I ask, “ Do you believe me now?” 

“I believe you. What is your name?” 

“My name is Grell Sutcliff.” 

“If you are going to stick close by me, you are going to need a reason to be there for the sake of the public,” she says then ponders a bit, “I know! You can be my butler.”

“I’ve never played the role of a butler before. This could prove rather interesting,” I reply instantly thinking it is a good cover up, “No one will ever suspect us. Because no human could imagine that a grim reaper actually exists and walks among them.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
